January 18th, 2012
Cincinnati, Ohio
1
"I can't keep them from you much longer," the Preacher warned quietly as he held the first, dirty, glass door open, and the woman sucked up her courage, wary eyes going over a faded Special Forces tattoo on his wrist.
Drawing in air, Angela told herself she could do this, even if he and the rest had been soldiers. She just had to show them that she couldn't be taken and she would come back out when her work was done. "I don't need your protection, Warren."
As they moved down the bare, filthy hall together, his dusty robes flared out behind them like an evil bridal shroud. Her stomach churned when his voice lowered another notch in response, becoming urgent.
"You're wrong, my child. Soon, they will insist you stay, and if you are not under my guardianship, like the others here, I will not be able to help you."
The tension thickened as they neared the main lounge. She knew his subtle threats weren't idle. If they didn't try to keep her here, he would, probably the next time she came.
"Maybe today," he confirmed, and the pale female nodded before stepping into the crowded lounge where seven unwashed, tense males waited for them with heavy beards and thick frowns.
"Hello, gentlemen. How goes your day?" Her tone was polite, unafraid compared to her thumping heart, but she wasn't encouraged by the way they only grunted and kept eyeing her like something on a store shelf that was just out of their reach.
"Over here." Warren gestured as he led her to a blanket-covered child of about ten, his daughter. Angela's dislike of the greasy hypocrite eased a little with the love she could feel. He was a weak man, easily tempted she was sure, but he feared losing the flushed girl. It was beating in his thoughts, and Angela was gentle as she pulled the dusty blanket back.
"How long's she been like this?" she asked, shining the penlight around her neck into the unconscious child's dilated, brown eyes.
"Five days, a week. It all runs together now."
"I hear ya," the doctor muttered, pulling on gloves.
"Is it the radiation sickness?" one of the men behind them questioned loudly. There was silence in the very dirty, but otherwise undamaged, administration lobby as they all waited for her to answer. These heavily-bearded men were all that remained of the technical college's teaching staff, though Aaron, the bald man with the constant scowl, had only been a groundskeeper.